A Demigod Duo in Dumbledore's Court
by Captain Clueless the First
Summary: Demigods have always managed to get themselves into seriously weird situations, and they don't need monsters to do it either. Dotti Wright and Milo Sage are no exception to this rule. The story's exactly what it says on the tin.


Two Demigods in Dumbledore's Court

_The first to the ROGUES series. Just because it needed to be written._

_Jellify_ is the incan. for the Jelly-Legs Jinx from Founding/Losing Hogwarts, which is way better than Locomotor Mortis.

Prologue:

Really, we're very good at crazy things. Could we make a career out of it, Milo?

I'm not sure, Dotti. It'd depend on which world we were in. Demigods, well, that basically is the characteristic thing, as we've proven multiple times. Maybe you should be an Unspeakable?

I haven't heard about them before; what do they do?

No one has the faintest clue.

Sounds perfect.

Ahem. Dotti, we need to get to the point and explain ourselves fairly soon, lest our audience tries to obtain our heads on a pair of silver platters.

Do they want solid silver or just a silver veneer? Sorry, I couldn't resist. The Hermes cabin rubbed off on me.

No, really? I hadn't noticed.

Sarcasm becomes you nicely, but now you are the one who digresses.

Damn your logic. Anyhow. Hey, I'm Milo Sage. I'm a demigod – that means that my mum is an Olympian goddess. Athena, to be specific. We usually prefer to be called half-bloods – but that means something different here, so we just say demigod, or, since I'm a guy, a hero.

I THOROUGHLY RESENT THE IMPLICIT STATEMENT IN THE LAST SENTENCE.

Whoa, capslock abuse, much, Dotti?

_Jellify!_ Hi, I'm Dotti Wright. I'm also a demigod – but my mum isn't part of the Pantheon. My mum's the goddess Nemesis, and she's a daughter of Nyx, which means Milo and I are really distant relatives, but a generation or three removed. I could be called either a demigod, or, since I'm a girl, a heroine. Well, you could call me a hero, but I prefer heroine. _With an __'__e__'__!_

Yes, Dotti, because gods forbid that someone tries to…pull a He Who Is Very Stalkerish For A 100-Year Old Virgin on you.

No crap, Milo. In case you couldn't tell, we're referring to the Darkest Of All Books: _Twilight_. (Nemesis' holy crapping _SCALES_!)

As we've stated before, we are mildly crazy. And, accordingly, we have a corresponding talent for all things crazy.

So, really, it shouldn't be surprising that we managed, through the insanity of demigods before us, hard work, ingenious brains and a truckload of creativity, to cross dimensions.

Smooth, Cynisca, can I just say. _Ultra_ smooth talking there.

Shut up, Pericles, and explain how the machine works, because that stuff still makes my head spin.

Honestly, Cyn, it's just–

Of course, it's only just quantum physics…if you happen to be a rocket scientist!

Just because you're jealous–

Yes, because I want to be as good as science as much as you want to be good at Latin…

_Fin_e! You've made your point, let's move on. Simply put, we were in the Athena library, which holds some of the old plans. Turns out that three heroes from the 60s had the idea of building a time-and-space machine, to cross into other worlds, like a sort of multiverse theory. We brushed up the plans, got some supplies smuggled in by the Hermes cabin, and spent a lot of time building it.

Then we flipped a coin, between "a magic world" for tails and an "old world" for heads.

Obviously, tails won. We might need to refine our descriptions, on reflection.

And that's how we ended up here. Next time, we're going to bring some money with us.

In our defence, this was our first time jumping dimensions, so you can't really blame us.

You're forgetting who's (probably) in the crowd, Pericles. I'm Dotti Wright, aka Cynisca.

I'm Milo Sage, aka Pericles.

And we have gotten ourselves into some serious [_CENSORED: for Professor Sprout__'__s faith in innocence_.]

_It all began when we crashed our Time-And-Space-Machine into the Whomping Willow._

Chapter 1: Duck and Cover

"Uh-oh. Milo? Mate? There's a tree that's about to kill us in a few seconds, mate."

"A mad Dryad?"

"Dunno. You'd best take a look. You were always better with them than me."

Milo stuck his head out of the window, and then hurriedly retracted it.

"Dotti, that's no Dryad, that's a mad tree with a soul of its own which still doesn't have a nymph to bloody well listen with. Run!"

The demigods crawled out of the crashed machine and then sprang up, as the tree slammed the ground where they had been a second before. They dodged and sprang, flipping and somersaulting, performing handsprings, in a mad effort to get away from the tree. After they were about six metres from it, the tree calmed and they breathed a sigh of relief, sitting down.

"OK," began Milo calmly. "Let's run through our situation."

"We're armed and we have our shields, very good thing."

"We have no food, since we can't go back and get the time machine," Milo frowned.

"We have…no money, which is a problem. Well, we have a bit on us and more in the time machine, but…" Dotti said slowly.

"For that matter, we don't have clothes since those are in the time machine."

"OK. Milo, do we have ambrosia in the machine?"

"Yep, why?"

"I think that we just need to go in and get it, and damn the consequences."

Milo nodded slowly. "It's insane and suicidal and the only thing we can do. Let's go."

The demigods stood up and tapped bracelet and watch. They expanded into Greek war shields, which they shrugged onto their backs.

"Let's do this thing, then," said Dotti. With that, they sprinted back to the homicidal tree and grabbed the time machine, bending over so that the branches hit the shields. Stooped, they ran back out of the radius and breathed a sigh of relief. They took a quick bite of the pudding each, and then packed it into Dotti's bag again.

"Okay, next problem," said Dotti. "Where. Are. We?"

Milo frowned, before doing a quick 360. "The woods seem thinnest over there," he pointed to the north. "Let's see if we can walk over there without much incident."

Dotti nodded. "Let's keep our weapons out, eh?"

"Mm," Milo nodded, slinging his pack onto his shoulders. "If that tree's any indication, there are still monsters in this world."

"Should be important enough for celestial bronze," agreed Dotti, as they began to walk briskly westwards.

"Well, if it's not, then the world is truly screwed up."

"Worlds, you realise."

"Oh, yes, the wonders of the multiverse," Milo's sarcastic voice replied. They continued their soft chatter as they walked. About two hours into the way, Dotti froze.

"Hear that?" she asked softly. Milo froze also and they listened intently. A steady rhythmic drumming, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, over and over, like rolling thunder.

"Horse hooves," realized Milo. And then they were surrounded by a herd of centaurs, in an instant, roan, bay, grey, chestnut, black, and palomino. Most carried bows, with arrows aimed straight at them. Instinctively, Milo and Dotti pressed their backs together and lifted their shields in a defensive, but peaceful position.

"Weapons down," ordered one centaur. They carefully placed their swords on the ground. There was a quiet, barely audible murmur of interest from the centaurs when they saw the swords.

"Who are you?" demanded another.

"I am Dotti Wright, and he is Milo Sage," Dotti said carefully.

"Where do you come from?"

"Another world, of monsters and demigods and gods and a centaur named Chiron, who taught us all we know with the weapons you see before you," said Milo warningly, pointing to the swords.

"A centaur?" said the first centaur incredulously.

"Yes…sir? Should I call you sir? Anyway, Chiron's our teacher, and he is indeed a centaur," replied Milo.

"In human servitude and slavery?" asked the second, disgust filling his voice.

"Well, actually, sir, he's in service to the Olympian gods. You know, like Zeus, Hera, Apollo, Athena," said Dotti.

The centaurs managed to relax. A little. Apparently, service to a god was a fair deal, but service to a human was not.

"Why are you here, foals?" asked a third centaur, stepping forward from the herd and approaching a little further. Dotti looked uncertain, but continued, facing the centaur squarely as Milo flanked her.

"Well, sir, we wanted to see if a time-and-space machine some demigods from the seventies worked, and we reconstructed it."

A hint of a smile played on the centaur's face, which had softened slightly. "I see, and you landed here."

"Yes, sir. We flipped a coin between 'a world of magic' and 'an old world', and then we crashed into a tree that tried to kill us. Was the tree a guardian of the forest, or are you guardians, or both, sir?"

"Don't call me Sir. My name is Firenze. As to your question, we live here and accordingly protect it. The tree is a guardian, but not a guardian _of_ the forest." He spun to face his herd. "You can see that the foals had no intention of landing on our Forest. I propose that I escort them to the edge, where they can make their own way to the humans."

"You won't let them ride on your back, Firenze?" said one centaur pointedly.

Dotti broke in. "Sir! We would _never_ ride a Centaur. It would be indignity towards Chiron and his kin! And, as you seem to believe, to your herd as well," she said strongly. Milo hid a smile as he thought that their credibility shot up another notch or two.

Firenze nodded. "I shall not, Bane. And did you not hear the filly? They would not ride on my back if I begged. I shall be back shortly."

He turned back to the two demigods. "On your feet, foals." They slung the packs back onto their shoulders.

"Er, sir? Can we take back our swords?" asked Milo. Firenze flashed him an indulgent look, which Milo and Dotti took for permission. Quickly sheathing their swords and tapping them, they tapped their shields, which retracted into their bracelet and watch. Dotti tucked a strand of hair behind her ears using the sword/hair clip, and Milo shoved his pen into his pocket. They hurried after Firenze.

"Firenze, where are we?" asked Dotti.

"You are now in the Forbidden Forest, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, little filly."

_Chapter 2: In which introductions are made_

"Hogwarts School of-What does that mean?" Milo asked.

"Precisely that, young colt. As for the rest of it, you will find out soon enough." They kept walking for another few minutes, and then Firenze stopped.

"Here is as far as I shall go. Hagrid, the Friend of Centaurs, lives in the hut you see over there. Go to him."

"Thank you, Firenze," said Milo.

"Thanks, Firenze," repeated Dotti. Firenze waved his hand.

"It is well. Stars smile on you, foals." With that, he turned and cantered away. Dotti slipped her hand into Milo's, and they walked up to the hut, knocking three times on the door.

A giant of a man, at least seven feet tall, stood in the hallway of his hut.

"Here, now," he grumbled. "It's summer, what are yeh students still doing here?"

"Er…we aren't sure. Firenze sent us to you," said Milo quickly. Hagrid appeared to perk up.

"Oh, Firenze, yeh say? Well, that's different. I'll take yeh to the castle, then." Dotti let out a gasp of delight as she caught sight of the magnificent boarhound.

"Ooh! Can I pat your dog, please?" she asked, eyes widening. Milo smacked his forehead in exasperation. Hagrid smiled kindly at her.

"You like Fang, eh? Well, give 'im a pat before we go, then, there's a girl," he chuckled, retrieving his coat. Dotti promptly knelt and ruffled the dog's coat. It sniffed and licked her hand, wagging his tail happily. Hagrid's smile broadened, and after a few seconds, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Here, now. Have to take you up to the castle."

"Oh, right," Dotti said, getting up again. They set off across the grounds, and Hagrid let out a knock on the door: once, twice, three times.

A tall woman in green tartan robes appeared there.

"Good evening, Hagrid. May I ask who you have there?" she asked politely, albeit expressionlessly.

"Evening, Professor McGonagall. Couple o' kids come out o' the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, Firenze sent 'em."

McGonagall took a closer look at the two children and her eyes widened. The boy had a sword belted at his left hip and, if her eyes did not deceive her, a wristwatch gleamed with the faint tinge of a Shrinking Charm. The girl was equally strange, a sword sheathed and strapped to her back, pack slung over the top of it, bright white bracelet also tinged with a Shrinking Charm, clad in orange T-shirt and Muggle jeans like the boy.

"Good afternoon, Professor. May we come in?" asked the girl politely. She shook herself, and nodded.

"Naturally. We were just beginning to lunch. Come along, then." She opened the door. "Will you come in, Hagrid?" she asked the Gamekeeper.

"No thanks, Professor. Got to go to Hogsmeade to get the pumpkin seeds."

McGonagall nodded understandingly and let the door swing shut.

"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. I will take you into the Great Hall to explain yourselves," she said to the two, not unkindly. They nodded and stepped closer together, following after her. McGonagall swung open the door of the Great Hall.

"Ah, Minerva!" cried the man at the head of the table. "Who do you have there with you?"

McGonagall nodded. "These two children were sent to Hagrid from the Centaur Firenze, of the Forbidden Forest."

"The Forest? What in Merlin's name were they doing there?" asked a rather short man.

"And who are they? I don't recognize them," said a woman, frowning thoughtfully.

The first man cleared his throat. "Ahem. Perhaps we should let them explain themselves."

"Come here, you two, let us take a look at you," said the woman. Dotti and Milo exchanged wary looks then obediently stepped forward, still budged together. McGonagall took the opportunity to be seated.

"No, they definitely aren't students," said the woman, frowning. "I would recognise them if so, I would."

"And they can't be Muggles, despite their attire. If they were, they couldn't have found the castle and the Centaurs would have shot them on sight," said another man. His face was sallow and framed by greasy, black hair.

"And to add to Severus' point, what business do two Muggles, in this day and age, have carrying around swords and shields?" asked the small man, his eyes narrowing. Dotti's eyes widened.

"Hold on, you can see the weapons?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, yes, my dear," said Professor McGonagall. "We are magical, after all, and Filius as the Charms Master can easily see beyond the Shrinking Charm."

Another glance passed between the two.

"By magical, ma'am, you mean…" Dotti left her question hanging.

"Well, witches and wizards, of course."

"Ah."

"Now, I believe you were about to explain yourselves," the old man said.

"Oh, yes. Dotti, shall you do the honours or shall I?"

"I'll do it. Basically, we're demigods. I'm Dotti Wright and this is Milo Sage. That means we're half-god, half-human, though we prefer the term 'half-blood'. It's a little arrogant to go around saying that one of your parents is a force of nature, after all. Milo's a son of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, useful arts, strategy and justified warfare. I'm a daughter of Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance, divine balance and justice. We found some old plans drawn up by demigods from the 70s that showed a model for a time and space machine, meant to cross dimensions. We built it, flipped a coin and presto! As you see us," said Dotti quickly.

There was silence at the table before them.

"I don't suppose you could do us a favour and do the introductions? And before you ask, our story is true and we swear it on the River Styx," Milo said pleasantly.

The first man rose and introduced himself as Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, before pointing out the other teachers: Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House; Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology Professor; Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin; and Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw. There were a lot of others, though: Professor Auriga Sinistra, of Astronomy; Charity Burbage, Muggle Studies; Madam Rolanda Hooch, Flying Instructor; Silvanus Kettleburn; Professor Vector of Arithmancy; the deceased Professor Cuthbert Binns of History of Magic; Bathsheda Babbling of Ancient Runes; Sybil Trelawney of Divination; Madame Pomfrey, the school Matron and nurse; and finally, the Defence Against Dark Arts Professor, April Manndar.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" asked Sinistra practically.

"We could take them on as scholarship students," said McGonagall.

"Or we could toss them out and wash our hands of them," said Snape coolly. Dotti felt the temperature in the room rocket upward, as every women looked at him in shock (except for Professor Manndar.)

"Severus! They are children!" said Sprout in a scandalized voice.

"Children carrying swords and shields," said Manndar mildly.

"Yes, but they're still children!" snapped Sprout.

"Well, we could always adopt them," said Flitwick.

"Filius…" the women at the table looked sympathetically at him, reading between the lines and interpreting it as an 'I'. "The Ministry would throw an absolute fit, Filius. You know that."

"Of course I do," said Flitwick, rolling his eyes. "I mean unofficially."

"I must say, Filius, that's a good idea," said the Headmaster. "That way, we can also keep several eyes on them, as well."

"How old are you?" asked Sprout thoughtfully.

"Twelve years old, both of us," said Dotti instantly.

"So, they'd be going into second year, then," said McGonagall.

"Shall we get the Hat, then?" said Dumbledore. "In the holidays, they can sleep in the quarters of the Head of House they get Sorted into?"

"What happens if they get Sorted into different Houses, then?" Snape asked coldly, disliking the sound of this plan very much; imagine, if they got Sorted into Slytherin! He'd go mad preventing them from blowing up the dungeons (and if they were capable of building a time-and-space machine, they were definitely capable of that.)

"They can decide, then," said Kettleburn. "I vote we get the Hat!"

Everyone but Snape agreed to this plan, and Dumbledore exited, reappearing in a few minutes. (Snape was still in favour of chucking them out, preferably over the Astronomy Tower.)

"Oi! What's happening?" barked the Hat he carried. It was frayed, tattered, and appeared to have a pair of lips, though no other facial features.

"Well, we have two new students, Hat, we need you to Sort them," said Professor Sprout.

"It's not September yet! I don't have my song ready!" shouted the Hat angrily. "Who d'ye think I have inside me, Merlin?"

"No, we just need you to Sort two students! You don't need to sing!" Vector hollered, exasperated.

"In fact, we'd rather prefer you not!" said Flitwick very softly.

"Fine, then! Who's first?" barked the Hat.

"That would be me," said Milo wryly, stepping forward. Dumbledore put the Hat on his head.

_Hmm__…__brave heart, willing to fight, but not for the thing of it__…__mild inclination for justice__…__a lot of nerve, but not the centre__…__strategy and cunning and capable of deviousness, but not really self-centric, and certainly not power-hungry__…__wanting excellence in your chosen field, yes, but ambition, no__…__a lot of loyalty, but centralized into a small group of people__…__oh, your best friend and your family, that__'__s who they are. Makes quite a bit of sense, then__…__SWEET MERLIN, BOY! You__'__ve got to be a reincarnation of Rowena…_

"RAVENCLAW!" bellowed the Hat. Milo yelped, covering his ears and flinging off the Hat.

"Oi! Be gentle, you!" the Hat said angrily. "Well, you said there were two. Who's next?"

"I guess that's me," said Dotti, smiling wryly as she placed the Hat on her head and bracing herself.

_Hmm__…__a lot of nerve__…__…__intelligence, but more focused on creative usage of it__…__bravery, yes, but has to have a__ reason__, rather like your friend there__…__ willingness to work for what __you__ want, and not at all fazed when it turns out to be a lot__…__ loyalty, quite a bit and given to many, but also astounding loyalty to the concept of __"__good__"…__oh, is that what you__'__d do to someone who hurts your friends? __Very__ creative then__…__but loyalty, and given to a lot of people, and what__'__s this, then? Justice, fair play, rules respected (if they__'__re __**good**__ rules, even though you__'__re not above breaking them) and duty above all else. Morgan Le Fay, if your friend__'__s a reincarnation of Ravenclaw, then you bear an incredible, a downright __**uncanny**__ resemblance to Helga:_

"HUFFLEPUFF!" screamed the Hat. Dotti lifted it off her head and gave it back to Dumbledore.

"You can have them, Filius," said Sprout quickly. "I'm not sure I can deal with time-and-space machines."

The small man grinned at the demigods warmly. "No, but I think I can handle these two."

"Er, sir? Fair warning," said Dotti. "We're very hyperactive, incredibly curious and are very draining people. As well as the fact that we build time-machines."

Flitwick simply smiled. "Then it's a good thing I have the most independent House."

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

Flitwick smiled broadly to himself as he walked down to the Entrance Hall, a spring in his step. His euphoria at having two unofficial kids still had yet to wear off. Oh, they were a draining pair and incredibly hard to keep track of, but they were good-hearted, lively, lovely, brilliant, and actually did behave themselves, if the orders you left were specific enough.

"Good morning, Filius," said Minerva.

"Morning, Minerva!" he said brightly. She looked at him quizzically.

"You're…cheerful, this morning," she said tactfully. "Anything special happening?"

His smile widened even more, which should have been impossible but wasn't.

"Diagon Alley trip today!" he said.

"Ah," said Minerva understandingly. "I must say, Filius, I'm rather intrigued by these two. Mind if I come?"

Flitwick looked shrewdly at his old friend. "You want to see what wand they end up with, and try and tell more about them from it, don't you?" he asked eventually. Minerva, Pomona and Filius all knew a fair bit of wand lore. Minerva gave a small, rueful smile.

"Filius, you know me far too well. Is that alright?"

Flitwick raised a brow. "I suppose so. But I can tell you now, there's not a truly **bad** bone in their bodies, and Dotti, at least, is a terrible liar."

Minerva frowned. "So the boy has no trouble with lying?" she asked.

"Less that and more to do with the fact he's a brilliant strategist who understands the occasional necessity, and is far too canny to lie to me, from what I've seen," laughed Flitwick. "If you're ever in doubt, just ask them if they swear it on the Styx."

Minerva frowned. "I'm familiar with the basic myths, but could you prompt me there, Filius?"

"The Styx, the river to cross into the Underworld. Didn't you read the Iliad? The full oath goes, 'Earth be my witness now, the vaulting skies above and by the deepest, darkest waters of the Styx'. That's the one the gods use. The demigods just say 'swear it on the River Styx.'"

"Oh, I see. Where are they, actually?"

"Exploring, I should think. I've told them to meet me outside of the doors by eight o' clock, though," he said, casting a quick Tempus Charm. "So, that gives you five minutes to get ready."

Minerva gave him a small smile. "Accio coat!" she said simply, pointing her wand to the Great Hall. Her coat flew out into her hands. Flitwick gave a roar of laughter.

"I see, Min! Come along, then."

They trooped out of the Entrance Hall and waited. A few minutes later, they heard a thundering of running feet and Dotti and Milo burst out of the doors.

Flitwick shook his head fondly as they appeared before him, panting and out of breath. He looked them up and down critically, before nodding once in satisfaction.

"Presentable, I suppose," he said mildly. "Come on, then. We've got a bit of a walk before us, as we're Side-Long Apparating."

"So, where're we going, Boss?" asked Dotti, hurrying behind the two Professors.

"We're going to Diagon Alley," replied Flitwick. "You have about two months to catch up on a year's worth of work, and you need all sorts of things that you don't have."

"Wait, a _year__'__s_ worth of work?" asked Milo in shock.

"Yes, but be thankful you're only catching up first year," said McGonagall.

"First year's fairly easy," agreed Flitwick. "And both of you are bright. I don't doubt that you'll be ready for second year by September."

"But a year? I mean, how many subjects do first-years have?"

"First-years have Charms, Transfiguration, DADA-"

"What's that?" asked Milo.

"DADA – Defence Against the Dark Arts," answered Dotti. "Sorry, Professor. Continue, please?"

"Certainly. Charms, Transfiguration, DADA, Astronomy, Herbology, Potions and History of Magic."

"Don't forget, Minerva, they also have flying lessons with Rolanda."

"Ah, yes. But those are only eight subjects, and your workload is really quite easy. Not to mention the fact that you will be having one-on-one – well, two-on-one lessons with we Professors, so it ought to be much easier for us to correct you."

The pair exchanged uneasy looks but appeared to resign themselves.

"Er, when you say need all sorts of things we don't have," began Milo now, on a whole new vein of questioning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you need a cauldron, scales, phials and a kit, just for Potions. You need gloves, a cloak, a telescope, robes and a wand. A pet wouldn't do you any harm either," said Flitwick, getting warmed up.

"And you can find all of that in this diagonally place?" asked Dotti.

"Diagon…Alley, Dotti," said Flitwick. "Not diagonally. And yes, you can."

There were a lot more questions, after that, all answered by a patient Flitwick. McGonagall glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and hid a small smile. Flitwick looked happier than she'd seen him for quite a while. After a few more minutes of walking, McGonagall and Flitwick stopped, and Apparated them to the Leaky Cauldron. The demigods followed the two Professors through the pub and into a courtyard. Flitwick frowned as he tried to remember.

"Let's see, now…ah, yes, three up and two across from the rubbish bin," he said. He drew his wand and tapped the brick twice. The brick opened, and became a small hole, then grew into an archway, opening onto a broad and colourful winding street, with shops and people everywhere.

"Where to first, Filius?" enquired McGonagall.

"Gringotts, of course," said Flitwick, his smile full of anticipation.

They set off at a brisk pace down the Alley, towards a large, white building, with golden gates.

"Hey, Dotti! Look at this!" said Milo, pointing to an inscription. Dotti hurried over, and read the poem there.

"I'm glad it's not the Hermes cabin here," said Dotti fervently.

"Yeah, really good thing that," Milo laughed, as they hurried to catch up to Flitwick and McGonagall, who were seated on a cart and beckoning urgently. Flitwick and McGonagall both shut their eyes during the cart ride and appeared to be gripping on for dear life. Milo and Dotti loved it. It was like a rollercoaster, except a bit rougher and a lot bumpier. They whooped and cheered, shoving each other playfully, as they rocketed along, faster and faster, before arriving at Flitwick's vault.

McGonagall politely averted her eyes, while Flitwick hopped out of the cart and stepped in, Milo and Dotti obediently following. The vault was half-filled with gold, silver and bronze coins. Flitwick grabbed one of each and turned to face them.

"Listen carefully, now," he told them. "These bronze ones have least value – these are Knuts. These silver ones are in between – they're Sickles. These gold ones are Galleons – they have highest value. There are...493, yes, I think that's it, 493 Knuts to a Galleon. There are 29 Knuts to a single Sickle, and 17 Sickles to a Galleon. There's also the Gallus coin, but so few people deal in that, it's rarely used by anyone except the very, _very_ rich," explained Flitwick.

The kids nodded in comprehension. Flitwick gathered up a generous pile of gold and silver and stuffed them into a bag. They exited the vault and went back into the cart, which flew back up even faster than the first time around. They exited Gringotts and Flitwick smiled at his children.

"So, you have a choice between the apothecary, the cauldron shop, the bookstores, the clothing stores, the joke shop, the random equipment shop, the quill shop, the broom shop, the wand shop and the pet shop. Which do you want to go to first?" he asked.

A discussion between the two ensued, conducted solely by facial expressions and half sentences, and lasting for about a minute before they turned back to the teachers and said as one: "The book shop!"

Flitwick's smile broadened, first into a grin, then into a beam.

"Flourish and Blotts it is, then!" he said proudly, leading the way down the alley to the bookshop. The duo dove inside, quickly followed by the Professors.

"Remember to refer to the supply list, you two!" Flitwick shouted.

"As well as anything else that takes your fancy!" added McGonagall.

"Thanks, Min, now I'll have to buy half the shop," Flitwick grumbled good-naturedly. In the end, it wasn't so bad. They got two copies of all the required textbooks, plus a few extra: _The Monster Book of Monsters_, at Dotti's insistence; _Hogwarts, A History_, at Milo's insistence; and _An Analysis of Muggles & Their Culture_ for 'sheer comedic value', according to the duo; perhaps understandable, since the book was the 72nd reprint of the original and had been published in 1826.

They hit the Potions and cauldron shops next, and Flitwick had the delight of seeing Milo's eyes go round with pleasure as he realized that Potions was incredibly like chemistry. The Professors then had to spend the next half-hour arguing with Milo who wanted a self-stirring cauldron, against the list, which said a standard-sized pewter cauldron. Finally, much to the owners' amused happiness, they walked out of the shops with two pewter cauldrons and one self-stirring cauldron, as well as a variety of Potions ingredients and equipment that was decidedly _not_ on the supply list.

After that, they had to drag Dotti out of the quill shop, though they were unable to prevent her from buying: three dicta-quills; one truth quill; a quill charmed to lie; a quill that would transform even _Potions instructions_ into purple prose and a veritable rainbow of Very Pretty Ink.

None of the things in Random Equipment interested the demigods much, so that was one of the quickest visits that day, simply going in, purchasing dragon-hide gloves and then walking out again.

The pet-shop resulted in two lovely Tawny and Snowy Owls, which were promptly christened Sir Harry and Gerul, much to the bewilderment of the Professors. Dotti and Milo had simply exchanged looks before chorusing, "Don't ask."

McGonagall watched the duo along the way, and she couldn't help but smile (only a little, mind you) at their antics. They were so good for Filius. He loved his Ravenclaw students dearly, but they were often so aloof, rarely getting into trouble and very unreceptive to House-wide gatherings, preferring to just get on with their studying. This pair, on the other hand, was anything but aloof, constantly shouting, chatting and simply _interacting_. She was starting to dismiss her earlier doubts about their character, but then caution spoke; she and Pomona could all discuss it back at Hogwarts, as both Filius and Severus were biased, one very much in favour and the other very much against.

The clothing shop was next on the list. The Professors saw the kids tensing as if to run; the two adults exchanged a determined look and sprang into action. McGonagall grabbed Dotti by the scruff of her neck and frogmarched her into Madame Malkin's, while Flitwick went for a less physical but nonetheless effective approach, drawing his wand and casting a Body-Bind and Levitating Milo into the shop. It took several reprimands each from Malkin, McGonagall and Flitwick for the duo to actually remain seated throughout the fitting process, and Madam Malkin breathed a sigh of relief once the admittedly odd party exited her shop.

"So that only leaves Ollivanders'," said McGonagall, much happier.

They strode into the shop where a small, reed-thin man popped up.

"Oh! Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall." He pursed his lips, frowning. "One of my father's wands, yes, Professor Flitwick? Vine, dragon heartstring, 12 ½ inches, particularly good for Charmwork, yes?"

Flitwick nodded, fingering his wand affectionately. "The same, Ollivander."

"And yours, Professor McGonagall. One of my first, as I recall. Fir and dragon heartstring, 9 ¾", wasn't it?" Ollivander stated, turning to her. Professor McGonagall simply nodded. Ollivander turned to Milo.

"Right, you first, I take it. Hmm…" Ollivander measured him from head to toe with a tape measure that appeared from almost nowhere, before quickly taking it away and presenting Milo with a wand.

"Here, holly and unicorn hair, 9 inches…no? Alright, maple and dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches…no? Oops, there go the lights." Catching sight of the half-panicked look on Milo's face, he hastily added, "Oh, don't worry, young man, I'm used to this. It happens all the time. Very well…aha! Yes, this might do the trick. Beech wood, dragon heartstring, 13 ½ inches."

Milo gave the wand an experimental flick, and smiled contentedly as lovely, drowsy warmth flooded through him. He nodded happily to Ollivander, who beamed.

"Excellent! And now, you, young lady," he said to Dotti. The tape measure reappeared and he quickly measured her before reaching to a case.

"Redwood, unico-oh no, definitely not," he said, quickly snatching it out of her hand. "Perhaps this? Hawthorn, unicorn tail hair?" Dotti gave the wand a flick and a mirror on one of the walls gasped as its surface was suddenly covered in a cloud of acne. "Maybe not, then, interesting reaction though... Try this. Walnut, dragon heartstring, eleven inches?" Dotti flicked it and he shook his head. "No, no…"

Eleven wands, a shattered window, and one memorable incident where the already wrecked lights sprouted fangs later, Dotti's face lit up the shop as she flicked an eleven-inch, sycamore wand with a core of phoenix feather.

_September 1__st_

Kings' Cross

"But why do we need to catch the Express?" whinged Dotti, as she, Milo and Professor Manndar arrived at Kings' Cross.

"Because it's a great way to meet friends," said Manndar wearily.

"But we _are_ friends," stated Milo, acting deliberately obtuse. Dotti smacked him lightly on the back of the head, sulking.

"She means friends other than us," grumbled Dotti, jutting out her bottom lip. Manndar shook her head.

"Tuck that lip of yours back in, Dotti. Your puppy-dog face is one of the worst I've seen," she said briskly. "Now, I'm going to put my things away. Have fun!"

"Hey!" shouted a voice next to them. "Hi! I'm Tonks."

The woman next to her, with serene silver eyes and a tranquil face (in contrast to her daughter), sighed in amusement.

"Nymphadora, darling, slow down," she said. Dotti and Milo, using their impressive ability to absorb information at a high speed, sent a sympathetic glance to Tonks. Tonks' hair turned a fetching shade of hot pink, similar to that of a bad blush.

"Hey, Tonks," said Dotti, grinning. "I'm Dotti Wright and this is Milo Sage. We're new. Want to show us the ropes?" she offered. Tonks beamed.

"Sure! You can sit with me and my friends," she said. Milo coughed politely.

"Sounds great, but I think your mum might want to say goodbye," he said. Contritely, Tonks turned back to her mum, who simply smiled affectionately at her.

"Good luck, dear. Try your best, have fun and write regularly. And remember, if you don't make the Quidditch team, it's not the be-all and end-all," said Mrs Tonks. Tonks hugged her mum and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thanks, mum! G'bye!" she said, picking up her trunk. Mrs Tonks kissed her daughter and Disapparated. Tonks dropped her trunk and climbed onto it, her eyes scanning the crowd.

"Found them!" she crowed, as she stepped off the trunk and picked it up. "Just follow me!"

They cut through the crowd to find two children arguing. One was a fairly short, stocky boy with flaming red hair, Devonshire strains sounding through clearly, as he argued with the girl. The girl, a little taller than him, tossed her head proudly as she glared at him. Her long black hair was a braided in a rope down her back, and her voice held the distinct tones of a Scot.

"Oi! You two!" shouted Tonks. "Meet our new friends!"

The two turned from their argument.

"Milo, Dotti, meet Ivy Macmillan and Charlie Weasley. Charlie, Ivy, meet Milo Sage and Dotti Wright," Tonks introduced.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

–Fin–


End file.
